After Midnight
by seherringer
Summary: What if Larkin wasn't just an arsonist's near miss? And what if she wasn't just a girl hiding in her mugger clothes? And what if she (stupidly) tried to strangulate an undead rich boy? Ah, what then? (Originally a Noah x Reader, feel free to imagine it's you. xx)


Originally, this was a Noah Czerny x Reader story but I wasn't comfortable writing characters that were practically nameless so I just tagged an original character of mine, Larkin, to the story. Feel free to imagine it's you. xx

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 **O N E |** Fantastically Broke at Seventeen

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Working at a convenience store in Henrietta was never convenient. Especially if your shift ended around 12 midnight and recently, the streets were becoming unsafe and terribly cold. To Larkin, this was a perfect excuse to close up the joke of a store earlier (like two hours earlier). That is, if she managed to get even a word out to her manager without being threatened to find another joke of a job or worse, to cut her already shit pay. The manager was an asshole, the workplace was a total dump, her co-workers were lessening by the minute, the manager was a total asshat, the pay was ridiculously low, and the manager was the biggest scum bag. But she didn't need to wonder why she was even staying. It was simple, she had to.

No other establishment in Henrietta didn't require legitimate identity. She didn't have a choice but to suck it all up until she had enough money. But apparently, earning _enough money_ on an eight hour shift five days a week would take her twenty years and she still wouldn't be able to leave Virginia. All because the manager was as broke as she was. And as the saying goes, broke people make the best employees. She was the best, and she was still broke. She could start a television show _Fantastically_ _Broke Seventeen_.

Larkin, sitting on a creaking stool behind the counter, looked over at Erik who was rearranging the toiletries three aisles away. For some time, he'd been wanting to go home early (like two hours early) after he'd read the papers a few days back. Larkin didn't read the paper, not wanting a reason to scare herself away from her job. Not entirely oblivious, she knew that there had been disappearances, deaths, mysterious voodoos going around Henrietta that spooked half of the staff at Sally's-2-go. When she started, there had been 10 them, and then five, and by the end of the week (she'd bet her month's pay on this) Erik would most likely quit or quietly disappear, without a trace, without a shadow. He was Russian. Or so he said. Larkin didn't take any of their words, as they didn't hers. Broke people make the best liars.

 _Oh, God. She was so broke._

An hour and a half left, she decided, they were going to close early. Even if it meant living off her Aunt and losing her only hope of getting out of here. Okay, not really. But the thing is, working in this particular convenience store means that you have to deal with the worst kinds of jackasses—like those Aglionby bastards—or none at all. Currently, they had the latter. She figured, half an hour wouldn't hurt. And it was some crazy degrees Fahrenheit outside, no one would freeze their ass off for an outdated bag of sour patch.

"Excuse me?"

She spoke too soon. Instantly, her hands flew to her scarf and adjusted it just below her lips.

In strode a handsome set of Aglionby boys in their casual, pretty normal clothes. Except for the one with the make-up malfunction who still had on his black sweater. She recognized a guy, he once saw him with Kavinsky—fucking nut case Joseph Kavinsky who tried to burn the store down—in one of his July Fourth life-threatening theatrics. Aglionby boys, she figured, we're all sorts of insane: insanely rich, insanely attractive, and insanely out of their fricking minds. Kavinsky was hot. Fucking crazy, but hot.

"What can I help you with?" Erik said in his _I want to go home voice_ that was impatient and a little forceful. She didn't feel bad. Had she seen them coming she would've slammed the door in their faces screaming: _"We're closed, come back tomorrow with free life insurance you rich sons of bitches!"_

"We can handle it." Said, or more like ground out by the one who may or may not be as insane as Kavinsky. He had a shaved head and a small raven perched on his shoulders, his brows knit tightly on his handsome face. He had the look that could actually kill. Larkin couldn't believe she was seeing one in real life. She was afraid a fist fight might break out, but it was clear who'd come out victorious. Luckily, the tall one, with the right kind of facial features and delicate angles to make one go weak in the knees, took the other Aglionby's elbow and must have told him to lay off, because the next thing she knew, they were off in one of the aisles, picking out some probably expired junk food and a few cans of beers. Or not few.

Erik gave her a questioning look. He was as baffled as she was. Normally, Aglionby didn't stray this far off unless they had car trouble or were trouble themselves. They didn't buy anything. They either asked to call a mechanic or asked to burn one in front the store like it was a witch trial. No such thing as in between, apparently. Until now.

The three then got their items checked out, it was mostly alcohol and several bags of biscuits, there was a pink elephant in the basket, too. In fact, there were two. A box of condoms and a small bottle of lube. She tried not to look that as interested, she really did. And then she couldn't help it.

She peeked from her lowered head towards the three. The tall one was blushing furiously to the tips of his ears, looking anywhere but her and the basket and basically anything that might embarrass him more. Larkin suppressed a smile. While the other one, the shaved-headed one, glared directly at her, an unspoken challenge to question his sexuality. One that she didn't need to do because anyone with half a brain would have an inkling as to what was going on and who was getting what. The last one, the smudgy one, was laughing openly, his hand clutching his stomach, and Larkin noted, he had a really nice laugh. Noticing her glance, he stopped altogether and tilted his head in a curious manner. She just shrugged him off and went back to the products.

"It'll be-" A credit card cut her off, and with a swipe and punching of numbers, she was bagging the items spouting some pleasantries about coming back again. She half hoped they wouldn't.

The following day, on the same 8-hour timetable, seemingly non-crooks came and went. Some had successfully taken a thing or two, while some had been caught red handed and were forced to pay by none other than her Wednesday co-worker, Priya, not Russian, but of another european descent and had a face that could match last night's angry joe. With a sigh, she leaned against the back wall of the register, a borrowed pencil in hand. Larkin brought to her work an actual homework, an algebra one, in hopes of Priya helping her out.

When all hope was lost, Blue Sargent from the wonderful place called Mountain View Public walked through the door, surprisingly enough, the smudgy Aglionby trailed behind her in a slouch. Like his body was too heavy for him to carry. He looked worn out, same as last night, except he had a lot more color to his person, like a dab of diluted blush on a gray age-old paper.

Now, Blue Sargent and Larkin were not friends, not because they held an ambiguous animosity against each other, but because they both didn't have friends in school. Outcasts were not keen with other outcasts. Usually, the outcasts chose the ostracized life or had learned to live with it. And as "not friends nor enemies" go, they had a conversation once, it went along the lines of _hey, you dropped this_ in which the other party held a small piece of the other's dignity in her palm by not laughing nor looking whilst the latter got shit kicked in the self-esteem department.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Sally's-2-Go." Priya, unnecessarily, like always, greeted in a monotonous voice.

Blue Sargent walked in warily in her mix and matched outfit, like she was afraid a bomb might go off as she was shopping for... a pair of scissors? Larkin didn't pay them much mind. The algebra paper in front of her was nagging to be answered. Damned if she was gonna ask Blue to help her out. It was in her best interest to not make any acquaintances around as much as possible.

"I think she's a loon," In a whisper, Priya elbowed her in the ribs, "look." Her wide non Russian forehead nodded over to where Blue and her friend was. Like them, they were speaking in hushed voices as well as sending each other furtive glances. It was quite obvious they were all talking about each other. "Leave them alone Priya, they probably think we're insane, too."

She snorted. "They?"

"Oh shut up, I'm trying to do my homework."

"What kind of high schooler _tries_ to do their homework?" Priya, she felt, was about to make a point, "I mean you either do it or you don't. You don't _try_. It's another word for _not doing it_ because fuck this I'm going to work in a shithole register for the rest of my life." Larkin gave out a laugh that echoed in the store, earning the looks of amusement from Blue and the Aglionby. She stiffened.

Her laugh wasn't anywhere near amusing per se, it was a harmony of farm animal snorts and nasal congestion. Well, maybe it was. Fidgeting with the edge of her scarf, Larkin pulled it up her nose, burying her face in shame and praying that a hole would magically appear underneath her feet, especially when Priya made it her job to humiliate her even more by imitating her in the most obnoxious way possible.

"Stop it!" She hissed, her voice muffled. Thank God she decided to bring the knit one she got from Dollar City. It was charcoal and wide and long and she could practically wrap it around her whole head.

Noah, in all his seven years of deadness, had not heard a sound as peculiar-in a way that Ronan could take things from his dreams peculiar- as the clerk's laugh. Magical was not a word to describe it. He didn't even think Ronan's ability was as fascinating as the fae, but it was fascinating in way that was scientifically unproven, like there was more to it than that.

"I think she can see me, Blue." He said quietly. He said a lot of things quietly. He was Noah. Slouching, grubby, smudgy Noah whose worn out self was being unexplainably flickery lately, and for some reason, people were beginning to look through him, something that didn't happen in the past. Before Adam woke the ley line. Before a lot of stuff. He was becoming very much of a ghost. Intangible. Untouchable. Unreal. But with Blue here, he could borrow as much energy as he liked, not that he was using it now. The last time he did it, he had almost hurt Blue. He probably did, he just wasn't aware of it.

"Why do you say that?" Blue asked, examining a dented chocolate bar with a pair of scissors in one hand. "Did she talk to you?"

Noah sighed. Last night he could swear she looked at him. Not a minute long stare, but a look that lasted a simple second, one that he could easily miss if he wasn't as unseeable as now. When he was perfectly tangible a few months ago, and very visible at that, people didn't spare him a glance, after all, he was Noah. Awkward, invisible Noah Czerny.

"Not really, but she _saw_ me, Blue." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Blue.

"Okay. So, what were you doing last night?" she asked, to which he replied, "We bought beer, well, Ronan did." He didn't mention the condoms and the lube. That would be ratting out. Although it wasn't a secret, it wasn't shared information either. "And?" She pushed.

"And?"

"Come on, what were you guys doing _here_?" Blue sounded genuinely curious as to why Ronan and he (and Adam) went this far off Monmouth. Mini-marts and convenience stores were _conveniently_ at a walking distance and yet they chose some ten-minute drive. The answer to that would be exposure. Ronan could handle it, but Adam... Adam could be a little unpredictable.

"We went for a drive and found this place." Thankfully Blue let it go, an eyebrow raised in incredulity before she turned towards the register, "Okay." Noah wasn't lying, he was omitting the truth. A lot of it.

On the other side of the counter, the clerk from last night still didn't have her name tag. But she had on her button-up orange uniform and a different colored scarf wrapped around her neck, covering her mouth. He could swear she saw him last night, and earlier too, after she'd taken a look at Blue. Noah could feel it. The clerk saw him. The clerk had looked at him and for a moment, it made him feel real. A fleeting moment of not being dead.

"It'll be one-seventy five." The clerk told Blue with her head down. He figured, she was probably still embarrassed from earlier. Standing beside her was a taller girl with dark hair, her smirk something that could match Ronan's usual unsmiling expression of wanting to throw someone out the window just for kicks.

As Blue paid, Noah leaned next to her ear, "Tell her I said hi." She didn't. She headed out the door as if they didn't go all the way there to confirm his suspicions.

"I can't do that, Noah." She reasoned, "I know her, she's from school. She's like me, we're both practically friendless. And if I did that to her, with another person there we'd both look crazy. She probably doesn't even know she can see you." Ah, that. Blue had a point. Ever sensible. When he'd gone to 300 Fox Way with the intention to kidnap Blue for the day and spend it at some rundown convenience store in nowhere, Henrietta, he didn't actually have a plan. He just really wanted to know if he existed in the clerk's eyes. And maybe he did. What then?

"I'm sorry. I dragged you all the way here for—" _nothing_. Noah explained, "I just thought that—"What? They'd exchange numbers? Go for an ice cream? And so what if she saw him? And so what if she can actually see dead people? And so what if it didn't matter to her? Ah, what then?

"You don't have to. I understand." She gave him a small smile that actually made Noah feel lighter. Blue may not be as psychic as the rest of her family, but she had the uncanny ability to make people feel better even without a palm reading or a set of tarot cards.

As they walked back, Noah was trying to figure out where to properly start, imagining what he would have done if he was alive. And so he began, "What's her name, anyway?" He wanted to sound as if he'd meant to end it there and then, as if it wasn't a big deal. Which it was. But Blue didn't need to hear it out loud. Her brows went low, as did her eyes, falling on the bland road ahead. His proverbial heart squeezed. He was familiar with this look.

"I don't really know."


End file.
